All Hail the Prophet that Was

"Just scared.

That i will love you like a foolish child, and you will love me like a dignified adult."

Anger, thats what i feel. No. No not anger, rage. Blind, murderous, cannibalistic, all consuming, screaming, punching, kicking, biting Rage. God the stupidity. I knew, I always knew that no matter what he said, he would never love me like I could love him. He would never want me like I could want him. And I told him, I told him I was scared that I was too young, and he needed someone whose heart was less prone to absolutes of emotion. I suppose that was s stupid thing to say. You make something horrible sound beautiful enough and anyone will want it.

But he swore. He swore that he was not going to be the kind that disappeared on me, that the fatigue of living three and half decades would not destroy his ability to love me and want me and like the stupid, naieve little fool that I was I believed him.

And now...

I am alone. With a man who doesnt understand me and doesnt want to. All he wants is to live out his life in peace. Peace? Fuck peace.

I want LIFE not life. I want passion and sex and madness and desperation and awe that I can reach out and touch someone so incredible.

He's already had it you see. He's done and now he just doesnt need it anymore.

God I am a fool. Of all the people to not listen to, I picked me.

And now...

Now...

Now I have nothing to say.

With this ring, I thee wed…

So marriage. I can’t say that I have spent too much time thinking about the institution. It’s always been there obviously, at the back of my mind, I am after all a good Indian girl and subject to the strings of the stereotype. Not too long ago however, I made up my mind never to get married. I had discovered much to my delight that I fell in and out of love every three months or so, and being perfectly content with the idea of doing it for the rest of my life I happily told the universe that love and marriage were not for me. I could not in all honesty imagine finding someone I could love forever, and so marriage seemed a rather stupid plan. And in view of all the horrible marriages I had seen erupt all over the place, it seemed like a stupid idea to even believe that you could love someone forever. I was saved from the terrifying trap that so many had fallen victim to, oh great joy!!

Right, so in this context, I have been rather solidly buggered. I have now been madly in love with the most unlikely man for seven months and counting, and instead of dying down, I appear to be showing rather alarming signs of falling even more in love with him. It’s terrible. There is nothing worse than being un-cynicised by life. You feel so profoundly stupid and generally childlike. I keep waiting for something to happen and for the rapidly diminishing cynic in me to jump up and say “AHA! I was right after all!”

Which brings us back to the original point of marriage. Once the subject was broached and I got over the initial barf reflex, I have discovered much to my surprise that not only do I want to get married, I have ideas about it. About what I’m going to wear and who I will invite and what is going to be served at which ceremony. Oh yes that’s right, I apparently want ceremonies. In plural. Where did I develop these horrible thoughts from? I have no recollection of ever consciously thinking about it. When did my traitorous girly mind form these plans, and how did it do so without telling ME?

Marriage, the life and not the day, isn’t terribly unappealing either, though that’s possibly because I am already living like I’m married to this man. I wash his underwear and he takes days off from work to look after me when I’m sick. It’s wonderfully comforting, and I wonder if could go back to my hit and run love affairs. It seems the guy who devised this whole ‘couple’ idea knew what he was doing. I recommend true love and mushiness to everyone! Go out and find someone you can cuddle and will respond when you refer to them as ‘Snugglybuns’ and Pookiepoo’. It’s surprisingly fun.

House Insanity I

I live in a big house in DLF. Well, big by Delhi standards. Having lived my whole life in a two bedroom flat with my parents, this place is mammoth. Sharing my new home and stealing all the hot water, is Blue (also known as boyfriend). Blue and I are owned by two dogs, Darth Ravenous and Darth Gazelle. Yes, they are in fact proficient in the secret arts of the dark side. Come visit and you'll see.

In retrospect, I must rephrase. I live in a mad house in DLF. Insanity pools in the bathroom floor along with the bathwater because the drains are clogged and can only be cleared through demolition of the neighbours kitchen. Needless to say I will be wading through both insanity and bathwater until the end of time.

Adding to the merrymaking and chaos is the household help, lovingly referred to as Idontknow. There is also the more explicit version of her name, prefered by Blue but unsuitable for use in this blog. Idontknow is called thus because she speaks no language discernible by modern man. Or women. Or canine for that matter. My mother, who speaks more languages than most of the people I know combined, informs me that she speaks in an obscure dialect of Bengali. As a result, giving her instructions to do anything has more inherent dangers than a game of russian roulet. I once told her to clean the bathroom floor, you know, mop up the bathwater and the insanity. Ten minutes later I found her on the first floor balcony wringing out the stray cat that had adopted us. Blue thoughtfully told her she did her job very well, and she took the afternoon off, reduced to bitter tears.

We never did figure out what it was he said in that obscure dialect of Bengali. Though since that day she has come in every morning and stood over him while he slept, watching with what I hope is maternal tenderness. Though its not likely.

She is currently on a fifteen day hiatus, no doubt trying to regain some sort of perspective on life outside the gigglefest that we conduct here. OR she is off to her village to recruit other, more voluptuous unintelligibles to come and stare at Blue. The possibilities are endless.

Urban Legends

When people first discover that I live with my boyfriend they all react the same way. Their eyes glaze over, they emit a deep sigh and generally exclaim with great sentiment, “How ROMANTIC!” (Yes, in capitals)

Usually I respond with an indulgent smile. Let them have their delusions, everyone needs some hope for mankind. But sometimes, when for example I’ve had a particularly ‘ROMANTIC’ morning at home, I break into vigorous laughter tinged with rampant hysteria. I try to stop before they begin to edge away and talk soothingly of therapy.

Unfortunately this romantic concept of living together is shared by many who have never tried it. Its not all candlelight dinners (unless the electricity has disappeared again and you’re forced to eat cornflakes with wax dripping into it, again) and soaking together in bathtubs (what do you mean you forgot to put on the pump? Is there no water at all??).

The one sure way to kill romance sadly is to move in with it.